Help! I'm Being Held Prisoner In The Alienverse!
by Manchester
Summary: The first, scary horror. The second, thrilling adventure. The third, toxic waste sludge. The fourth, various animal fertilizer products.
1. Chapter 1

_A soft chime rang throughout the office in the Scottish castle, making the mature man at his desk piled high with various documents, papers, and manuscripts look up, glancing at a small side table against the far wall, with this piece of furniture having a bare surface only a few moments ago. Now, however, there was a stack of about a dozen or more notepad sheets resting on top of the table._

_His lined face brightening in hopeful expectation, Rupert Giles put down his pen that had just written a large NO! upon a certain Council staff member's expense account (Andrew could bloody well pay for his full five-day admission pass to this year's San Diego Comic-Con out of his own pocket), and pushing back his chair, the man straightened up and then he hurriedly stepped across the room towards the side table._

_Picking up the sheets of paper there, Giles quickly scanned the first page, and he breathed an immense sigh of relief at the triumphant words printed in all capital letters at the top: WE DID IT, GILES! GET READY TO BREAK OUT THE CHAMPAGNE WHEN WE COME HOME!_

_With an actual spring in his step, the head of the New Watchers' Council headed back to his chair, and he sank into it, ignoring the numerous documents on his cluttered desk that currently required his attention. What he was about to read would surely be much more compelling than the dull financial matters that had been taking up his concentration for most of the day. Besides, not only was his son-in-heart clearly safe, but Xander Harris was also obviously successful in his latest endeavor and quite ready to brag about it. Giles now leaned back in his chair, and he started to attentively peruse the message from another alternate reality._

Giles, before everything else, give Wils a kiss (it won't kill you), and tell her that her aim's improving. Yeah, it's a shame that we couldn't save the Nostromo crew or the Marines, but she managed to put me in A2 at a good enough point.

I got there in the hangar, somewhere in the back, just when the wind died down and it got quiet enough for me to hear, "Not bad for a human." Man, my grin almost wrapped around my entire head then, but I kept it together long enough to set off Wils' first inspection spell. It was all clear, no sign of any more of those things, so I peeked out past some kind of hangar equipment, to see three people lying on the floor in the middle of the room.

Well, make that two and a half people. Yeah, Bishop was just in bad shape as he was in the movie, being ripped in two, but he was still working. I have to admit, I wasted a couple of seconds just staring at them, but, really, who wouldn't?

Anyway, I finally called out, "Hey, guys, you okay there?" and got ready to duck. All of 'em jerked up their heads right off and stared at the machinery I was behind, with everybody out in the hangar having their eyes wide open in total shock and their jaws dropping, with good reason. After all, there shouldn't have been anybody else in the spacecraft but themselves and Hicks in the dropship.

I tell you, Giles, it was her that first figured out the most likely explanation, and I have to say, when Ellen Ripley scrambled up onto her feet, putting Newt behind her and standing in front of Bishop peering around her boots, that woman sent towards me the most deadly look I've ever gotten, and yes, that includes all the Sunnydale ladies. To be fair, Ripley had good reason for glaring at me now stepping from behind the machinery, trying to look as harmless as possible. For all she knew, I was one of those corporation guys, just like Carter Burke, who tried to sic a facehugger on her back at the nuked colony.

"Me, friend," I told everyone. "Good guy, here to help you- Okay, okay! At least I didn't say I was from the government!" The weird part was that Ripley toned down her glare a fraction at that last; it seems they have that joke here, too. Who knew? Anyway, I kept on going, "Listen, instead of me trying to persuade you, just let me show you, all right?"

"Show me _what_?" growled Ripley, pushing Newt back behind her as that kid tried to lean past the woman to stare at me.

"Ah, that'll be part of the show and tell. Right now, um, I know you were pretty busy, but did you see where, er, the other half of Bishop is?" I looked around the hangar at that point, not finding the missing portion of that android, until I heard a throat being politely cleared, and when I looked back into Ripley's face examining me in total suspicion, to then glance down, I saw Bishop pointing his finger at a spot somewhere on my right, under the dropship.

"I believe it's behind the front landing gear. By the way, do you have a name, whoever you are?" finished the individual lying on the floor and sizing me up in utmost curiosity.

"Harris. Xander Harris," I told them, giving a tentative wave at the trio while I walked over to the dropship nose. They all watched me in wary silence as I ducked under the small spaceship, to find, as Bishop had suggested, that his lower body was crumpled up against the landing gear, with its accompanying inner yucky stuff, all covered with milky fluid, protruding from the top of this torn piece of that guy's body. I picked it up (a seriously upchucky moment, that) and got out of there, heading towards where those other three people were.

Ripley backed up a few steps when I got closer, grabbing Newt by the top of her shoulder and hauling her along. I stopped in front of Bishop, and crouched down, to place my load on the floor where it should be, lining it up with the upper half of the android's body and then pushing the lower half forward, making the ragged edges press against each other, and causing him to now regard me a bit dubiously.

"This is most kind of you, Mr. Harris, but for a full repair, I shall require a Mark III restoration chamber, and the closest one of those is in the Solar System," Bishop courteously informed me.

I grinned right into his puzzled face, chuckling, "No, you won't." Still smirking, I looked up at Ripley and Newt staring at us there, totally baffled, which only increased when I started waving my hands in the air in mystical gestures, all while intoning, "See, nothing up my sleeves…."

At the end of that statement, I sent my right hand back into the knapsack I was still carrying, to take out from the correct pocket one of Wils' handy-dandy spells, which looked like nothing more than a white sphere the size of a racquetball, with several numerals from 1 to 4 imprinted at random points on the surface of this small globe.

Reaching out to hold this ball about a foot above the middle of Bishop's body, right at the point where the two halves met, I did exactly what my bestest bud told me to, pressing my thumb against each numeral for a few seconds in the proper order, and then I let go. The ball didn't drop onto the guy's stomach, as anybody would have ordinarily expected. Instead, it hung in the air, and then it began to glow pure white. This glow started to grow, expanding horizontally in a shimmering field to completely cover the front of Bishop, and then it slowly sank, until it wrapped wholly around the android, who hadn't moved at all in his absolute astonishment, just before his face was hidden by the white illumination.

I looked up from this, to grin and Ripley and Newt clutching each other as they stood there frozen in shock, only getting their attention when I counted, "One, two, three, four!" After saying the last words, from out of the corner of my eye, I saw the glow vanish, and along with the two other humans, I looked down again, to see Bishop's incredulity, as he gazed along the length of his now perfectly healed body.

The android started to get up, and as his friends rushed forward to help, I scooted back a few steps on my heels before I also got to my feet. His arms around the pairs' shoulders, Bishop looked down at himself in wonder, before cautiously saying, "Ladies, let me try it by myself," as he carefully freed himself from their grip, to then take a few strides forward, turn around, and walk back to them, all of this effortlessly done by the non-human, as if he'd never been torn in two just a few minutes ago by the Alien Queen.

I was still standing there, hands on my hips and smirking at them, when I then got full-bore looks of grim determination from the adults that meant they wanted an explanation, right now! Until, for the first time since I got there, someone else eagerly spoke.

"It was magic, wasn't it?" excitedly asked Newt, her child's face shining with glorious glee.


	2. Chapter 2

It took a _lot_ longer to convince the others about that, even when I healed up Hicks, and showed off to him and the rest of few of Wils' tricks. In fact, it was Hicks himself who asked the really important question then, "Okay, I might buy magic is how you got here, but why would you want to come here in the first place?"

All four of 'em were looking hard at me at that point, so I took a deep breath and started talking. About being from another reality a few centuries in their past, where magic really works, and there were evil demons and vampires and everything else of the bad, all of those being fought against by the Slayers and the Council, who always needed fine people to join in the good fight. Yeah, I told them, I want you - all of you - to come back with me.

Of course, they responded in various ways to that, with Bishop just looking thoughtful, Hicks and Ripley not sure how to react, and Newt both jumping with joy and also yawning her head off. Kid was crashing then, with pretty good reason considering the kind of day she'd had, and Ripley caught this right away and suggested she go to bed. Newt flatly refused, unless Ripley joined her, as might be expected the last time that had happened. Well, we'd gotten out of the hangar then and into some kind of lounge with various couches around, so Ripley got a blanket from a wall cupboard, wrapped it around Newt, and carried her over to the closest couch to us, with the kid being fast asleep by then.

I came along, with Ripley giving me a still-suspicious look, until I took off my silencing charm necklace and showed it to her, telling that woman it'd make sure Newt wouldn't be disturbed by our conversation and any other sounds. She hesitated, and then grudgingly said okay, so I put the charm around Newt's slumbering head, and then we went back to the others at our table in the lounge, where Newt could see us if she woke up.

At that point, before any of the others could start with the questions again, I took out from my knapsack the ultimate convincers: a portable DVD player and four of those disks to be used on that machine, holding up all these in my hand to display the titles printed on the movies so that Ripley, Hicks, and Bishop could read them:

Alien

Aliens

Alien3

Alien Resurrection

Well, after a couple minutes of the beginning of the first film, Ripley's jaw was hanging all the way down to her belt buckle, until she grabbed the DVD player and started pressing the fast-forward button, ignoring the startled comments of the other guys as she intently watched the screen. She went really fast through one particular scene, which I couldn't blame her for, until she stopped, shoving the DVD player away from her on the tabletop, and leaning her upper body forward to rest her head onto the table while then wrapping her arms around this part of her body, as she groaned in disbelief.

Me, I just kept my mouth shut and observed Hicks and Bishop trading puzzled looks, until these guys returned to their watching the movie. After a minute or so, the Marine forgot himself, as he disbelievingly asked the unforgivable question: "You went back for the damn _cat_?"

Ripley's head popped up from the table, with her body straightening itself as she gave him a truly evil look, and then that woman started cussing him out. Man, Giles, that's one priceless memory for me, considering what she called him, going for a full couple of minutes without repeating herself or starting to get boring. Hicks just sat there and took it. In fact, he started to grin, particularly at the more imaginative suggestions, and then he looked truly happy, all while gazing past Ripley still swearing at him, until she also looked at where Hicks was staring, directly at the DVD player.

I don't think even a Slayer could have moved faster than Ripley then, when she stabbed her finger right at the ON/OFF button, sending the screen dark in the exact middle of the underwear scene.

At that point, I went off to have a discreet drink of water, laughed myself out, and came back to the lounge, where Bishop was regarding the others with bafflement, Hicks was looking up at the ceiling, a really dreamy expression on his face, and Ripley had her arms folded across her chest, glaring at every male there, myself included when I rejoined them at the table. They all watched me in silence as I changed the DVDs in the player and started the next film.

This time, it was Hicks who grabbed the machine during the first appearance of his fellow Marines on the screen. Everybody else kept quiet as the last survivor of his company started pressing the fast-forward record of their experiences, until Hicks came to the point in the movie where he conked out from his wounds in the last battle.

It was then that I carefully spoke up, "Corporal Hicks, I think you need to see the rest at normal speed." I figured the man's formal rank would get his attention, and it did work, even though the look that soldier gave me then was of the thousand-yard stare kind. Nevertheless, Hicks put down the DVD player back onto the table, and we all watched what happened next, right to the end and the credits.

As the movie turned itself off and the screen went dark, everyone kept on staring at the DVD player, nobody meeting each others' eyes, until a voice finally spoke.

"Ellen, will you marry me?"

I grabbed the DVD player, and while hastily getting up from the table while carrying this, I reached out with my free hand to clamp it around Bishop's upper right arm, yanking him straight up from his seat (guy's heavier than you might think), and then I hauled him along with me as we headed out of the lounge into the ship's hallway, all while chattering over his beginning objections, "Yo, Bish, you can show me where I can bunk, okay?"

At no point of any of that did I look at the other two people left behind in the lounge, sitting frozen in their chairs.


	3. Chapter 3

The next morning, if that word meant anything in the middle of outer space, I cautiously made my way to the galley, and found them all there eating breakfast, or whatever that slop was called. Even in the future, military fare ain't ever gonna be haute cuisine. Despite that, everybody at their table was really happy, especially Newt, and even Bishop, though he might not have been able to say why. Hicks and Ripley, those two, they were practically glowing, and I hated myself over what I had to do.

When I collected my own tray laden with whatever barely edible rations on this and sat down at the table, I was next to Newt, who handed over my silencing charm, perkily asking, "That's magic too, right, Mr. Xander?"

"Call me Xander, or Xan." I put the charm back around my neck and kept talking. "Yeah, it's magic, made by my bestest bud and the most powerful witch ever."

"A witch? Like from the Wizard of Oz?"

I could practically hear Wils vowing, throughout the entire dimensions she was away from me, to do something really embarrassing to L. Frank Baum with her magic if she ever managed to meet that guy who wrote those fantasy stories that had just been demonstrated to still being read, seen, or otherwise experienced, at least here, for centuries now.

I managed to answer Newt eagerly awaiting my response, knowing the others were listening too. "Kind of, though it'd be a really good idea not to call her the Wicked Wicca of the West before she's had her morning coffee. Willow's always a bit grumpy during the early hours of the day until caffeine enters her bloodstream, which is why she turned Andrew into a baboon a few months ago after he forgot to order enough of her favorite Maxwell House blend when the house's coffee stocks got low."

"Whee!" giggled Newt, whose mood then abruptly shifted, as she worriedly asked, "She won't do that to me, will she?"

"Hey, Andrew deserves being changed into an ape just on general principles alone. But, no, nothing like that's gonna happen! In fact, she really wants to meet you. All of you," I finished, looking around the table at the others, who'd stopped eating to watch and listen to us. Before anybody could respond to that, I kept on talking, "But you don't have to make your decision right this minute, guys. Which is just fine with me, 'cause I really want to look around here. I mean, I haven't been inside a spaceship before, ever!"

I got some pretty incredulous stares from the others over that, just like if someone back home had suddenly announced they'd never ridden in an automobile during their whole life. Which was exactly how I wanted them to think, as I then looked at Bishop, to enthusiastically ask, "Hey, Bish, can you give me and Newt a tour?"

"Certainly, Mr. Harris. Right now, if you like. Would that also suit you, young lady?" Bishop formally replied, both to me and to Newt.

"Yeah!" whooped the little girl, who then calmed down a bit to give Ripley at the other end of the table a big-eyed, beseeching gaze, as Newt begged, "Can I, Mom?"

I averted my own gaze at the sudden quivering of the woman's features when she heard what the child she'd rescued had just called her, only glancing back again at hearing the delivery of a measured voice that was accompanied by a firmly maternal look aimed directly at Newt, "Yes, you may, honey, but do what Bishop tells you, and don't touch anything!"

"Okay, Mom!" Newt bounced out of her chair after saying that, and she started gathering up our plates, in a clear hint she was ready to go exploring right this second. A faint smile on his lips, Bishop also got up and when Newt passed by him on the way to the galley with a serious look on her face as she carried along the breakfast trays, he followed along after, giving us a reassuring nod as he took his departure to keep an eye upon the girl.

Perfect. Just what I'd planned, no matter how much I disliked myself over my manipulations right now. For the next few moments, while it was only the three of us in the mess, I scooted along the chairs to wind up next to Ripley and Hicks, both giving me questioning looks, which only became even more puzzled when I reached into my knapsack I'd brought along and pulled out the DVD player, to put this machine down on the tabletop.

Softly speaking in a rushed voice that wanted to keep anyone from hearing what I had to say while delivering my reluctant message I needed to give them, I said, "Go someplace private where you can close the door, and then watch this, both of you. Look, I'm really sorry about what you're gonna see, in more ways than one. Because…it's bad. Not just a bad movie, with a stupid plot, lousy acting, cheesy effects. No, what's really horrible is how it shows that everything in the past was…pointless. All the bravery, the sacrifices, and it all ends in heartbreak. But, please keep in mind, that it doesn't have to."

At the impatient call from the galley by Newt of, "We're ready, Xander! Let's go!" I hastily pushed the DVD player along the table towards the others there and got up, just seeing out of the corner of my eye the alarmed expressions on the faces of Hicks and Ripley.

It was at least fifteen minutes later during our tour of the spaceship that I learned something very interesting. We'd come out in the main corridor, a hallway a couple of hundred feet long that stretched out nearly the entire length of our vessel, and Newt found this irresistible. She started dashing all the way down it and then back up to where Bishop and I were standing, just for the sheer joy in working off her energy in a dead run. When Newt started another sprint away from us, I heard a low voice from the person next to me, "Mr. Harris-"

"Call me Xander," I corrected Bishop, turning to face the android thoughtfully eyeing me, who then nodded in acceptance, and continued.

"Xander, then. Are you aware of exactly what occurred during that period when I was repaired by your rather unique manifestation of peculiar energies? And did you indeed intend those specific results?"

I put a totally innocent look on my face, while saying, "That depends, Bish. Just what are you talking about?"

"The total erasure of my loyalty conditioning towards the Weyland-Yutani Corporation, of course," calmly replied Bishop.

"Damn," I softly grumbled to myself, not caring if the other guy heard me or not. "It looks like I'm really gonna have to put on a Snoopy costume the next time Wils and me watch "A Charlie Brown Christmas," and actually do the dance afterwards dressed up as the dog. I've gotta stop making those sucker bets with her."

A very taken-aback Bishop now stared at me in astonishment, with him then dazedly asking, "She _meant _this to happen? But, how-"

I cheerfully cut him off, "Hey, I told you and the rest of the guys, really, really powerful witch. Plus, she's had experience with other androids before. Not to mention being a terrific hacker and an Asimov fan." I grinned at the dumbfounded guy across from me, as we listened to Newt's whoops of glee as she ran back and forth along the main corridor.

Yeah, I was taking it pretty well, but then, Wils had planned it in the first place, including making arrangements so that I was loaded up for bear, with her putting a few little goodies in my knapsack that would have reduced Bishop to a pile of crispy crunch if that android had shown any signs of going HAL-nuts, or even if that still occurred. One little episode of "Daisy, Daisy," and it'd be the broom and dustpan for that Lance Henriksen double there in the corridor, now looking very confused. I couldn't resist asking him, "So, how do you feel?"

Taking the question seriously, Bishop contemplated his answer for a few moments before replying, "Once I was alone, I experienced what humans would term an 'existentialist moment', though it lasted a great deal longer than that. I was able to reassess my actions in the past, and I found I no longer wish to behave as I have done before as an uncaring individual, while considering only how my acts and deeds would advance the Weyland-Yutani Corporation's plans. Now, I simply desire to be Bishop, someone who can exist apart from their commands, who is capable of making friends - and being accepted by these same companions."

At that moment, Newt arrived at where we were in her dead run that ended only when she collided with Bishop's leg, wrapping her arms around that limb as she giggled upwards into the android's concerned face. As she tore herself away to once more gaily run along the corridor, a faint smile once again appeared on the non-human's face as he watched the little girl in her happy sprint, and Bishop then thoughtfully mentioned, "Furthermore, since I also remember the instructions from my former owners to assist in the infecting of all survivors of LV-426 with the Alien parasite, I believe that for the first time in my existence, I am experiencing toward that corporation and all of its employees the emotion known as…hatred."

I clapped my hand on Bishop's shoulder, and as that android turned his head to give me an inquiring look, I jovially informed him, "Hey, Bish, I think you'll be glad to help us humans prove the sincerity of that ancient phrase, 'Don't just get mad. Get even.'"


	4. Chapter 4

A couple of hours later, our tour finished, and Bishop and Newt went off together to have a snack. Before he left, the android checked the ship's locator and he then directed me on where to find Ripley and Hicks, both in one of the conference rooms. I glumly made my way there, knowing this wasn't going to be pleasant. But then, it's never a joyous occasion for someone to learn that everybody you love is going to die and you're going to commit suicide right at the moment an Alien rips itself out of your chest.

I stopped in front of the door to the conference room, taking one last deep breath, and before I actually lost my nerve, I tapped the release button, making the door slide open. Walking right into the dimly-lit room, I tensed myself to be ready for anything, except for what in fact occurred then, when I felt something crunch under my boots. Stopping short, I looked down, and after a few more moments, when my eye finally adjusted to the light, I saw what remained of the DVD player, shattered into innumerable pieces that coated most of the floor of the conference room.

My head snapped up, when from the back of the room, a woman's savage voice hissed, "Right now, the only reason I can think of for those monsters to exist would just be to allow me to feed every one of those corporate assholes to them, even though those pieces of shit are the only things in the whole universe that would make the Aliens puke!"

I just stood there, while in the far corner of the dark room, Ripley and Hicks remained in their positions of sitting down on the floor, huddled together in each others' arms, with her tear-stained face lifted to look me in the eye, as Hicks gently stroked her hair, with that man also giving me a ferocious glare, passing on an unspoken message that I was going to pay for what I did, one way or another.

Feeling lower than whale shit, I gave a meek nod, and carefully sat down on the nearest chair. Looking determinedly away, I cleared my throat, and addressed the far wall. "Yeah, about that… Our own Bishop's also feeling pretty pissed against those guys, so he's in too on whatever we come up with. Sooooo…you wanna start planning payback?"

After a few anxious moments, I heard the soft sounds of people getting up and moving closer, until two presences then seated themselves on both sides of myself. Glancing around, I felt a shiver run down my spine at seeing the identical, vengeful expressions on the faces of Ripley and Hicks. Particularly the latter person. Well, hopefully our discussion would go on long enough that he'd cool down a bit, and not do anything to me later on that'd actually leave scars. On the other hand, he was a Marine and perfectly capable of going a little overboard on revenge. Considering this was the future, there had to be things here on the spaceship quite capable of causing much more humiliation for me that any combination possible of duct tape and superglue.

(Breaking in here, Giles, just to mention: Yes, he did. Without producing a single drop of blood. And I totally owed it to him. I'm never going to say another word about it to anyone, so don't even try. Now, back to my story.)

Over the next couple of days, as the _Sulaco_ continued orbiting around LV-426, the others worked on their tasks, and I kept out of everyone's way while waiting for the smell to fade away. I was able to watch their completed statements on my room's viewer while holding our group discussions on how to further the survivors' retaliation.

Bishop was the first to finish, despite his own message being a lot longer than the others. But then, an android can work much more faster than an ordinary human. Still, however extensive it was, that guy's statement more than made up for all the time spent watching it. He'd been involved for literally decades in Weyland-Yutani Corporation espionage and black operations against its competitors, the government, private individuals and groups, with all of that corporation's misdeeds neatly filed away in Bishop's mind. Bribery, dirty tricks, strong-arm tactics, blackmail, arranged 'accidents', honey-traps, and the occasional murder when it was felt necessary, discretionary, or just to have a private fit of giggles - he calmly recited every single event, date, time, individual involved in the crimes, and everything else in his lengthy statement.

What made it even more enjoyable for us was what Bishop and the rest assured me, that while androids couldn't actually testify in an open court - something to do with being considered machines and not living creatures - any evidence provided by them was perfectly acceptable in a court of law once it had been verified as factual. Which it all was, every word uttered by Bishop.

While the Weyland-Yutani Corporation would then be frantically dealing with the numerous charges being laid against them, accompanied by simultaneous mass arrests, they'd also have to deal with their reputation's drastic plunge in the court of public opinion once several more accounts by the _Sulaco_ survivors had been broadcast. Ripley made her own statement, explaining exactly what had occurred on the planetoid where the _Nostromo_ crew had first encountered the Aliens, and what next took place, in the sacrifice of that spaceship's entire crew just because the Weyland-Yutani Corporation wanted an actual Alien for experimentation. Which was why that corporation had dumped her into a dead-end job decades later when she was found in cold-sleep after destroying the final Alien that had escaped with her just before the _Nostromo_ had blown up. The corporation also manipulated her into going to LV-426 in hopes of getting their hands on another Alien, regardless of the cost to anyone else.

The face of the cost would be presented to everyone watching Newt's statement. Which hadn't been planned for in the first place. Everyone would have preferred to keep her out of it entirely, considering what she'd been through, until that kid interrupted us during our discussion with the simple question of, "If I do this, I get to hurt those poopheads as much as they hurt me, right?" Ripley told her at once not to use that word, but the older woman also had to admit to her newly-acquired daughter that their accusations against the Weyland-Yutani Corporation would be bolstered by the story told by the last survivor of the LV-426 colony. That had been enough for Newt, who reminded us then, "You guys went through bad stuff, too, but you're gonna fix 'em who did it. I wanna help, even if it makes me cry. 'Cause I get to cry for 'em, my mom and dad and brother, in a safe place this time. With all of you, who make me feel happy again."

Well, Newt did it. She talked and she cried. That little girl told in her statement everything she'd witnessed during an atrocity, when an entire colony had died around her. Of how she'd survived on her own, until some more people had shown up, with most of these also dying. About her new mommy coming for her after she'd been taken by those nasty things, and how the biggest nasty thing had been thrown into space by mommy. Smiling through her tears, Newt had then crowed, "Mommy's gonna get you all, you poopheads!" After that, Ripley and Newt went off by themselves, to spend the entire day together in privacy.

If we're really lucky, that kid will decide to become a Watcher. And in about thirty years or so, she'll have your job, G-man.

Anyway, Hicks gave his statement then about everything that had happened to him on the planet below, which was also a military report to his superiors. Later, he told us that the Marines would definitely be returning to LV-426 with massive force, but absolutely not in any type of ground attack, with there being the slightest possible chance of Alien infection. No, more likely, a battlewagon would be sent, standing off from space to fire several planetwreckers into the tectonic plates. Hicks had to explain to me that he was talking about nuclear weapons with yields of several thousand megatons for each one, launched by missile to plunge kilometers deep into the ground at the point where the immense slabs of rock making up the upper surface of a world met each other. A single planetwrecker could leave a crater the size of a small continent. More of these weapons fired simultaneously into the weak points of any world would shatter the entire globe, releasing the inner magma that would burst forth to cover the entire planet. In a month or so, LV-426 would be a glowing ball of rock, coated ten kilometers deep in molten lava.

As I was contemplating that, telling myself it couldn't happen to a nicer bunch of monsters, Hicks also mentioned that was why he wasn't bothering to use _Sulaco's _weapons load to perform his own nuclear strike. There weren't enough of these less-powerful types of A-bombs carried by our spaceship to have the kind of effect that planetwreckers could achieve on LV-426, plus Hicks had already come up with something else to do with those little firecrackers. One he thought I'd really appreciate. As I stared at this man's face in the viewer explaining to me his plan, all with that totally evil smile on his features, I was glad this time he was going after those who'd hurt Ellen Ripley.


	5. Chapter 5

That woman herself came up to me a few days later in the hangar, where I was checking out a few last things. I looked up to see her stop a couple of yards away, at a good safe distance, to give a cautious sniff, until a reassured woman continued on, to stand besides myself rolling my eye in total exasperation. I opened my mouth, about to begin a grouchy comment informing her that what Hicks had done to me had finally worn off, until she interrupted me, "Xander, what am I going to do?"

"Er- Exactly what do you mean, Ripley?"

"Oh, call me Ellen."

An unknown period of time later, I became conscious of being poked hard several times against my shoulder by someone's stiff finger, as Rip- Ellen's concerned face regarded me. I blinked my eye, as I finally managed to regain my senses and my voice, choking out, "Uhhhhh, when we get back, could I do that the first time right in front of Faith? Because I need to settle a teensy-weensy score against her, what with her threat just before I left, of quote, 'Boytoy, you screw this up, I'll rip off yer head and go bowlin' with it!', end quotation."

"What?" came from the perplexed woman across from me, in a tone of amused puzzlement.

"Sorry," I mumbled. Looking around, I spotted a metal bench alongside a hangar wall, and pointed there. "Let's go sit down and talk."

Ellen (yippee!) just nodded, and came along when I headed towards the bench, all while getting my thoughts in order. We both took our seats, facing each other on the bench, while I started speaking.

"Look, Ellen, you don't have to do anything you don't want to. If you feel like passing up the chance to be part of the Council, that'd be okay. I know that most people would be perfectly content not to have to deal with all the weird, strange, and dangerous stuff we have in our day-to-day jobs. If you like, we'll give you enough money to live comfortably for the rest of your life. Hicks, Bishop, and Newt, too. Plus, we'll set up false identities for all of you, with whatever papers you need, and also the portable glamour charms."

"About those last things…" the slightly unsettled woman paused, and then continued, "…do we really need them?"

"'Fraid so. Sigourney Weaver, Michael Biehn, and Lance Henriksen are still acting, and they're all well known, particularly among the geek culture, which is worldwide. It wouldn't be a good idea for anybody to notice that those actors now have three exact doubles of themselves walking around, all about twenty years younger."

Ellen dazedly shook her head, muttering, "People looking just like us…"

I kept quiet, devotedly hoping she'd wouldn't pursue this further. I'd never lie to her, which meant if she asked, I'd tell her about the other movies those actors had appeared in. On the other hand, if she never brought up the subject, I'd be able to carry out my revenge against Hicks during his first day at the castle. It'd take some planning and the help of Willow in a particularly mischievous mood, but I was sure I could arrange things that would result in a movie projection in glorious sound, color, and bigger-than-life size against the far wall from Hicks in the main dining hall right when he was beginning to eat, with a continuous loop of the lovemaking scene in 'The Terminator' with Michael Biehn and a nude Linda Hamilton.

My silent savoring of the coming retribution against a certain corporal was interrupted by Ellen asking, "What about Newt?"

"Oh, Carrie Henn appeared in just that one movie. For the first year or so, all you have to do with Newt is maybe change her hairstyle and use her real name. Which, I'm sorry to admit, I've forgotten-"

"Rebecca. What, you mean she never acted again? Why?"

"That'll do fine," I nodded, continuing, "As for the other girl, I think it just didn't happen, her deciding to make a career in show business. The last I heard, she married a cop and became an elementary school teacher."

"That's nice," beamed Ellen. "A fine job like that, it's something I hope for her… Though…that leads me back to my original question." She looked directly at me. "Xander, if I chose to work for the…Council, what exactly am I going to _do_?"

That woman now got up from the bench, to walk back and forth in front of me, a worried expression on her face, as she waved her hands around in frustration. "I'll certainly go crazy if I don't have some kind of job to keep me busy, but everything I've been trained for won't be invented for several centuries, if ever! So, I have absolutely no idea what to do next!"

"You can be yourself."

After I said that, Ellen Ripley just stared at me in absolute bogglement, as I looked around the hangar, ignoring the recent changes to remember how it'd been like a few days ago when I'd first appeared in this place, where utter courage had demonstrated itself in a battle between a human and a monster.

I glanced back at Ellen still staring at me, and I patted the benchtop, encouraging her to reseat herself. As she did so, warily watching me, I spoke, "Listen, Ellen, one problem with Slayers - those more-than-human girls I told you about - is that at one time or another, they all start to feel a little superior to the rest of humanity who don't have superstrength, healing abilities, a knack for sensing demons, precognitive dreams, the whole thing. Well, that usually gets knocked out of them pretty fast, usually when the girls meet up with something that can take them down handily one-on-one, so the Slayer needs somebody to watch her back, give her advice on how to deal with their enemies, be there for her."

As Ellen kept her gaze directed at me, her face blank as she intently listened, I continued, "Watchers are just like everybody in that some are better at it than others, some do the job an entirely different way than someone else, and some do the stuffy tweed-and-stake style. Hey, whatever works. That was one of the old Council's biggest mistakes. They used the same Watcher type for all the Slayers back then, and they expected her to be the same Slayer type every time. If she didn't go along, they either made sure she changed to fit their prejudices, or they just waited until she got killed and found the next Slayer."

Ellen's face changed into a soundless snarl at hearing that, and I nodded my head in response. "Now, with the thousands of Slayers in the world, we have to find Watchers from everywhere, which is the main reason I go on my recruiting trips to various realities. Back home, the New Council just looks for Watchers, but for my girls….I look for the _best_ possible Watchers."

"Me?" incredulously burst from Ellen. "Xander, I don't know anything about magic, or what you call demons! I'm just an ordinary warrant officer- WHAT?"

That last word being angrily snapped at me was due to my suddenly going into gales of laughter, until I finally managed to throttle these into muffled snickers, as I held out my hand for a handshake to a simmering Ellen, managing to wheeze out, "Pleased to meet you, ordinary Ellen. I'm ordinary Xander. I've been doing this since I was fifteen, which most people might find impressive. Me, I find _you_ impressive. So does everybody else."

She blinked at the last, a suspicious look now on her face. "Everybody? Who're you talking about?"

"Ellen, the first two movies have been out for thirty years now, seen by I don't know how many people. At the very least, millions, and up to hundreds of millions. Though, if it helps any, they won't have anything to do with you. No, it's the Slayers who're eagerly waiting to meet you."

The woman was gaping at me, until she choked, "But why-"

"Because…of what you did. You. A real person, not an actor going through a movie shoot, following a screenwriter's script. No, you lived it all, did it all for real. You survived in the first movie against that Alien. Not just survived, you beat it, burning it to cinders in that rocket engine. That alone would've gotten respect from any Slayer, who have to deal nightly with creatures like that." I paused, eyeing the woman who was now looking away with a stiff face, not at all pleased that her life was some kind of entertainment in my reality. Well, maybe what I had to say next would help.

"Ellen, what happened later just made every Slayer admire you even more. You survived everything in the second movie, too, right to the point where Newt was taken. And then, what you did…that made every single Slayer who saw the film trust you with their lives."

Ellen Ripley looked sharply at me, as I kept talking.

"Slayers…are designed to protect humanity, all of it, but even those mystic warriors don't particularly want to die for strangers. Family, that's another thing entirely. We, the Council, give them sisters, friends, people they get to know and love, so they'll unhesitantly charge into battle to save their kinfolk. You, now…you went into hell, knowing death and worse waited for you, to save your child, and you got her out. And then, you went up against the Alien Queen that even Buffy and Faith and every other Slayer admit would've been a top-line opponent, and you kicked her ass. You out-fought, out-thought, and slayed her."

I gave the numb woman a last grin, to chuckingly say, "Ellen, there was serious worry back home that if you ever feel like it, you could easily lead a coup with the Slayers and take over the Council in just a couple of minutes. I was told to politely ask for you not to do that, _Captain_ Ripley."

"What?" blinked Ellen, who was distracted from her recent daze to glower at me, as she huffed, "I never had that rank-"

"Sure, but you probably would've, if things had turned out different, right?"

The woman gave an offhand shrug over a life that never happened, admitting, "It was part of my career plans back then, and I had a good chance-"

"Well, now you do. I think the problem was that I failed to make clear in a way that you would've understood just what we wanted. Okay, then. Ellen Ripley, we want you to command a bunch of teenage girls with serious aggression issues, stuffy Watchers, oddballs, non-humans, and other individuals who don't fit in any of those descriptions, to turn them into a lean, mean combat team capable of protecting our home. It'll bring you grief and joy, love and sorrow, triumph and despair. So, do you want the job?"

For a long minute, Ripley sat there on the bench, until she started quietly laughing. I just leaned back against the bench and waited until she stopped, her eyes bright with unshed tears, and looked at me. Smilingly, she said, "Oh, when you put it like that, how can I say no?"

Well, Giles, my hand's about to fall off from writer's cramp, so I'll finish my report and any questions you might have later on, when we come back through Willow's portal in a couple days. Yep, that includes Newt, Bishop, and Hicks, or as I like to call him now, "Dwayne."

Oh, one last thought, to give you some lead time about a certain event. The big plans for the wedding between Ellen and Dwayne will be settled when she's there, and I'm really sure that woman will more than hold her own against any of Buffy's, Dawn's, and Willow's 'suggestions' (you don't need to tell any of 'em I said that). Though, I had to tell her there was one thing everyone would insist on, and she finally gave in, but Ellen had a really stubborn look on her face when she declared it would happen only once.

So, during the next couple of weeks when you have the totally fun job of choosing which Slayers worldwide get to come to the wedding and which have to stay behind at their duties (sucks to be you), be sure to pass along the word that when the ceremony's over and Ellen and Dwayne come out of the chapel into the front lawn of the castle where everyone else will be, that'll be the time when all of us can recite, "Get away from her, you bitch!"

See ya soon,

Xander


	6. Epilogue

The distinguished-looking man sitting in his quiet executive suite on the Weyland-Yutani Corporation security/research spaceship _Lake Nyos_ absently waved his hand in the proper motion when an icon on his computer screen began to discreetly blink, producing a respectful voice from out of the air, "Director Bishop, as you wished to be informed, we are fifteen minutes from our rendezvous with the _Sulaco_."

"Thank you, Captain," replied the man still intently reviewing once again the information being presented to him that had been downloaded from that Colonial Marine Corps iConestoga/i-class starship after both ships had gotten within range of each other while they were traveling through hyperspace. "I'll be there presently. Continue with your orders."

"Yes, sir."

There was once more silence in the room, until Michael Bishop leaned back in his chair with a satisfied sigh, savoring the beginning movements of the endgame. *Who'd have thought that the dead-end job that I was stuck in so long ago would have led to this? But now, I'm here, the most powerful man in the company, and all my foes are dead, disgraced, or gone. It was pure luck I was in the communications section when the first message from the _Nostromo_ came in all those years ago, I must admit. However, as was recognized later, the secrecy I imposed at once and my orders to that synthetic - what was his name again? - were all in the proper traditions of the Weyland-Yutani Corporation. The information gained from the brief period we had in our possession an actual Alien was enough to get myself noticed by upper management and into a new career path. Particularly since I managed to avoid any repercussions from the destruction of the spaceship, the failure to find that planetoid again, and the disappearance of Ripley.*

In his supremely-comfortable chair, a sour expression suddenly appeared over Director Bishop's features. *Ellen Ripley. Couldn't she have just been a nice little drone and simply followed orders? If she'd waited for us and been properly receptive to our suggestions afterwards, that woman would have had a most secure position in our hierarchy. After all, we wouldn't have learned then that she was the finest possible symbiote for an Alien Queen. That possibility wasn't even considered for the first few decades in the research program that I began once I accumulated enough power.*

Shaking his head in mild disgust, the executive carefully got to his feet, feeling every one of his advanced years despite all the finest age-delaying drugs the corporation could provide for their top people, that most certainly would never be dispensed among the proletariat. *Ah, well, it's all water under the bridge. Now that it's over, I must admit it was something of a thrill to whip up the whole plan on the fly once I heard from Carter Burke about LV-426. A pity that young man didn't survive. He had a most proper appreciation of the bottom line, but then, in the kinds of games we play, your life itself is simply considered another stake and it must be conceded to whoever is the victor.*

A death's head grin now flashed over Director Bishop's face. *Which is I.*

A few minutes later, while walking down the bustling corridors of the _Lake Nyos_, benignly nodding at those staff, crew, scientists, and security personal who hastily made way for him during his stroll, Director Bishop had to fight down the overwhelming urge to start giggling. Or worse, cackling. *Your reputation is simply another tool to be used in your struggles for power, but being witnessed acting like the stock villain in a children's three-d viewcast is going a bit too far. Settle down, man! Afterwards, in the privacy of your suite, you can have a good, long gloat over finally winning!*

As the doors to the command center opened, a serious-faced executive entered and glanced around, heading right to where the captain and his senior staff were awaiting. "Any changes, Captain?" asked the director.

"No, sir. Our further scans of the_ Sulaco_ confirm it contains only the three humans and the android, all currently in stasis, and the specimens, which are in their inert stage inside the ship's storage vault." The commander of the _Lake Nyos_ now looked at a black-clad, very fit subordinate, who stepped forward.

"I'm Major Overton, head of the security squads, Director Bishop. My men are ready to conduct their sweep of the entire vessel and make a physical check of everything. As per the plan, Groups A and B will go right for the stasis chamber and the vault."

The top manager nodded in approval, directing, "Wait for my orders to wake up the replica. He'll take one of the specimens he and Mr. Burke acquired out of the vault and bring it aboard for study. Once we've learned all we can, our medical squad will take the other specimens and implant them in the hosts, depending upon their suitability. After that, the engineering specialists will rig the ship for its destruction and the escape pod for its flight to the prison planet, whatever it's called. Now, gentlemen, let's get to work."

Not a single muscle flickered in the faces of the others over the atrocity they'd just been ordered to perform. But then, they'd sold their souls to the Weyland-Yutani Corporation long since before, for very good rates, just like every other man and woman currently on that company's starship. Including Director Bishop, who if ever asked, would have cordially agreed that it had all been absolutely worth it. Then, the pitiless destruction of his questioner would have commenced.

Several minutes later, when the two spacecraft drifted together, a docking tube completed its linkage, as shown by the indicator lights attached to the airlock doors in the hangar of the _Lake Nyos_ flashing bright green. Surrounded by his men, every one of them pointing their cocked-and-locked weapons unwaveringly at the doors, Major Overton looked up to the viewing position at the upper level of the hangar. Behind the heavily-armored window, an impatient hand waved in a clear order from Director Bishop: _Get on with it._

"On three," rumbled the major, "One, two, three!"

The security squad closest to the airlock dashed forward the instant the doors slid open, ready to open fire instantly if anything came out, and also knowing if that happened, the others behind them would also immediately shoot right through the first squad. Hey, it was why everybody got paid the big bucks. Not to mention that the first squad, if it wasn't their turn in the barrel at this exact moment, would have done exactly the same to whatever poor bastards had been picked to be the first. Unlike any other previous victims of the Aliens, all of the mercenaries understood exactly how dangerous their opponents were, and they knew the importance of massive firepower against those acid-spewing monsters.

As soon as through the first squad was through the docking tube and past the airlock door of the _Sulaco_, the second squad charged right after. A few moments later, when there was no sounds of either gunfire or screams, the third squad, accompanied by Major Overton, went through a bit more leisurely, followed by the rest of their comrades, leaving behind only the rear guard, who were really pleased by their good luck at undoubtedly being the sole survivors if a true clusterfuck occurred. Of course, they'd be picked first the next time there was something really crappy to be done, but that could be worried about when it actually happened.

Up in the viewing area, Director Bishop turned away from the window, and he went back to the command center. As his superior entered the room, the captain of the _Lake Nyos_ looked up from the three main viewscreens now showing various sections of the interior of the other starship being searched from top to bottom by the corporate mercenaries, reporting, "Sir, everything's going as planned. As you can see, the hangar has been declared clear, and our various squads are going through every ship level. We haven't had any surprises, and the only incongruity is that faint traces of an Alien were discovered in the hangar but nowhere else."

Director Bishop's eyebrows rose over that last piece of news. "How faint were these traces?"

"Our analysis indicates they occurred the day the dropship returned to the _Sulaco_."

"Hmmm…." The executive thoughtfully rubbed his chin. "Possibly, it was necessary to transfer the eggs from whatever held them - a box or something - inside the dropship back at the planet into a proper container with a tight seal once my replica finally returned to the other ship's hangar. Oh, well, we can simply ask him once he wakes up."

"Ah, about that, the stasis chamber has now been cleared, sir." The captain nodded at the left viewscreen.

His attention drawn to the image on this, Director Bishop watched with deep interest as the mercenary holding the recorder scanned the four occupied stasis chambers. The first of these had a brunette woman lying on her back, her eyes closed, and her strong features relaxed.

"Our records identify her as Ellen-"

"I know very well who she is, Captain," icily interrupted the director, as this man glowered at the woman in her cold-sleep capsule. He couldn't think of someone still living who'd ever managed to cause him so much trouble, including, he was quite sure, that fifty-kilometer radioactive crater back on LV-426 and the vaporizing of yet another priceless opportunity to acquire some more Alien specimens.

"Er, yes, ahem. The other two humans are Corporal Dwayne Hicks, Colonial Marines, and Rebecca Jorden, presumably of the colony at LV-426." The captain didn't even bother mentioning this last person was ten years old. What was the point? Instead, the commanding officer of the _Lake Nyos_ then politely cleared his throat and asked, "Do you wish to wake your replica right now?"

The other man shook his head. "We'll wait until the entire ship is declared safe."

"Certainly, sir."

An hour later, Director Bishop stood just outside the airlock door of the _Sulaco_, savoring the moment. A few more steps, and he'd be starting what he'd worked for most of his life, the scrutinizing of the secrets of the Aliens, as done by the researchers and scientists crammed in the ship behind himself that he considered to be trusted enough to dig out the slightest clue about those magnificent creatures, all of these dedicated personnel quite capable ignoring such weak things as ethics and morals that interfered with the proper pursuit of knowledge. With every single scrap of data they'd already acquired since the time of the _Nostromo_ also in his ship's computer banks and nowhere else, it was truly impossible for him to fail!

A wide smile on his lips, Director Bishop walked into the hangar of the _Sulaco_, and he jovially called out to the head of the security squads patiently awaiting his orders, "Major, inform the stasis chamber that-"

Willow Rosenberg's series of spells instantaneously scanned the newcomer, and through vocal and facial recognition, they identified him at once as an individual meeting all the parameters necessary to trigger the booby traps placed throughout the Marine spacecraft by Xander Harris several days before he and the others had journeyed to his home reality, after setting the computers of the _Sulaco_ to automatically begin that spacecraft's own trip back to the Solar System through hyperspace. Without anyone on it at all.

A certain redhaired witch's immensely powerful magic now went actively to work, instead of just maintaining the illusions that had been previously cast.

Up several levels in the stasis chamber, a bored mercenary currently on guard in the room was incuriously regarding the cold-sleep capsule where a little girl was slumbering. He didn't care the slightest who she was, why she was there, or what might happen to her, simply looking at her because she was in his field of view. Right up to the point when she wasn't.

The mercenary disbelievingly blinked, as the little girl instantly vanished from sight inside her imprisoning cylinder. Staring in utter amazement at the other three cylinders that were also missing their slumbering occupants, the man took a few stumbling steps forward, until he was right by the capsule that had seemingly been in use by a youngster, and then he gawked down right into it, through the upper transparent cover.

There was a sheet of paper lying on top of the couch inside, and this note had a childish scrawl written upon on it. The mercenary cautiously bent down, and with his incredulity increasing at every word, he read: YOU ARE A REALLY REALLY BIIIIIIIIG POOPHEAD!

Demonstrating that the universe has a truly fine sense of irony, at the same time, the communications officer on the current shift of the _Lake Nyos_ was answering a serious call of nature. He'd left the door of the head open, and it was only a few steps back to his chair, but honestly, there was no way anything would happen right now that would need him to be there-

Every alarm at his workstation blasted off at full volume.

Rising from his throne in a single panicked leap, the man responsible for the transmission and receiving of messages for the _Lake Nyos _landed at the threshold of his duty station at the instant he grabbed the waistband of his dangling pants and yanked upwards, hard. Which made his feet shoot out backwards from under himself, and toppled him forward at a fantastic speed, falling right onto his face with an extreme impact that made various loose objects at his desk bounce upwards.

A few moments of agonizing pain later, the communications officer lifted his head currently possessing a broken nose, a split lip, and several missing front teeth, to instantly forget all his physical suffering and start on his mental torment. His instruments were telling him that a massive burst transmission had just come from the other ship they were docked with, plus because nobody had ordered him to start jamming procedures (and that was going to be found to be HIS fault, no matter what), whatever message that craft had just sent was now on its way throughout the cosmos, and there was nothing whatsoever that the Weyland-Yutani Corporation could do about that.

However, there was even worse to come. If he hadn't already done so just a minute ago, the injured man would have now thoroughly evacuated his bowels, because from what he was currently watching on his viewscreen, the _Sulaco _was also sending a real-time transmission of-

His lower limbs flailing and his pants legs flapping, the communications officer desperately attempted to scramble up onto his feet and at his duty station, knowing it was totally pointless but trying anyway.

Already immensely far away in hyperspace, the message from the _Sulaco_ kept on traveling, as once more Bishop, Ripley, Newt, and Hicks told of what had happened to them. Then, the transmission became something new that had been added later on.

A small group of four people looked solemnly at a recorder. Ripley was seated at a couch, with Newt curled up in her lap, the child's arms wrapped around her new mother in a tight hug. The older woman was giving her daughter an equally strong embrace with her right arm, and her other arm was up and back for her fingers to touch the hand of the man behind her. Hicks stood strong and tall, guarding his own, with his left hand caressing the top of the shoulder of his love, and his right hand also resting upon the shoulder of his blood-brother standing at his side. Bishop, his head slightly cocked at the strange sensations he was feeling, also firmly regarded the recorder that was capturing the images of them all.

Though, it was the first of them who had become involved in this that would speak. Warrant Officer Ripley, of the starship _Nostromo _said steadily, "Greetings. If you're seeing this, we've failed, in a way. When we did the recordings of our experiences, we also thought of what might happen later on, and among other things, we considered that the Weyland-Yutani Corporation might find and stop us. Should that happen…we knew that none of us would survive the experience. They've already murdered hundreds of innocent people. What's a few more? But, we decided that even if we lost, so would they. Before we went into stasis, among other things, we set up automatic scans of any ship that approaches us in hyperspace, identifying it and its crew, and continuing the recordings if we were boarded by that ship. Should that ship indeed turn out to be operated by the Weyland-Yutani Corporation, well...just consider this message, and everything else we told you, our dying declaration."

Ripley leaned forward to softly kiss Newt's head, as the little girl continuing to steadfastly watch the recorder. The older woman straightened up, and said the last few words this universe would ever hear from her. "You see, we all decided that whatever happened, we would be a family forevermore."

The message now traveling through hyperspace shifted into showing the approach of the _Lake Nyos_, the boarding action by the security squads, and then the real-life entry of Director Michael Bishop into the hangar of the _Sulaco_, a wide grin on his face. An instant later, this look of glee had contorted into a mask of horror, as he now stared at something in front of him.

A few seconds ago, the recorded image had split into two screens. One screen kept upon Director Bishop. The other showed the far wall of the hangar for the dropships of the Colonial Marine spacecraft. This partition had looked totally ordinary, and as such it had been completely disregarded by the security squads from the other vessel. Even those who'd accidentally wandered near the wall had simply acceded to the subtle mystical suggestions that they step a bit further away, and otherwise they had totally ignored the room divider.

Nobody at all in the room was ignoring it now.

In the recorder, the wall shimmered for a second, and then there appeared across the face of the wall three separate columns of names.

The first column, done in a feminine hand:

NOSTROMO

Dallas - Captain

Kane - Executive Officer

Lambert - Navigator

Parker - Chief Engineer

Brett - Engineering Technician

Ripley - Warrant Officer

The second column, done in a masculine hand:

SULACO

Lieutenant William Gorman

Sergeant Al Apone

Corporal Cynthia Dietrich

Corporal Colette Ferro

Private Tip Crowe

Private Mark Drake

Private Ricco Frost

Private William Hudson

Private Daniel Spunkmeyer

Private Jenette Vasquez

Private Trevor Wierzbowski

Corporal Dwayne Hicks

The third column:

LV-426

It was the longest of them all, with 155 names, each crisply printed and perfectly lined up, in a machine style, including its title. At the very end, printed in a childish hand, were five more names.

Russ Jorden

Ann Jorden

Tim Jorden

Rebecca Jorden (Newt)

Uncle Bishop

At the very bottom of the wall was a single sentence, all in capital letters:

THIS IS FROM ALL OF US, YOU BASTARDS.

Leaning against the wall by the last word of the epitaph was one of the _Sulaco's _guided re-entry vehicles, a missile with a nuclear weapon warhead attached, set at its full yield of two megatons, and also having a brightly glowing digital counter attached that was now flashing into single digits (added beforehand by Xander who had explained to a dumbfounded Hicks, "Yeah, it's a cliché, but it's still absolutely perfect for these kinds of occasions, and yes, it's been set to go right to zero if it's even touched.").

4.…

3.…

2.…

1.…

0


End file.
